


From a Heart So Bleeding

by CarpeDiemForLife



Series: The Malice and Caprice of Time [4]
Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Family Feels, First Kiss, Incest, Number Five | The Boy Has Issues, Sibling Incest, Unrequited Love, Vanya is concerned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-07
Updated: 2020-09-22
Packaged: 2021-03-07 06:47:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26348827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CarpeDiemForLife/pseuds/CarpeDiemForLife
Summary: Five has loved Vanya in silence for years, and intends to keep it that way. This is easier said than done. Vanya sees that something is wrong with her brother but can't get him to open up about it. One day as she is training, the tension reaches a boiling point.Set about two years after a canon divergent 2019, wherein the Apocalypse was averted and the Hargreeves are now living out their lives. Doesn't acknowledge season 2.
Relationships: Diego Hargreeves & Vanya Hargreeves, Klaus Hargreeves & Vanya Hargreeves, Number Five | The Boy & Ben Hargreeves, Number Five | The Boy & Vanya Hargreeves, Number Five | The Boy/Vanya Hargreeves
Series: The Malice and Caprice of Time [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1893496
Comments: 105
Kudos: 257





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> PLEASE NOTE: Now's the time to hop off the train if you aren't on board with any actual "incest"
> 
> \--
> 
> This is a series of separate stories all existing in the same universe/timeline but able to be read individually if desired. That said, things will make the most sense if everything is read in order, especially from this point on.
> 
> The characters are as portrayed in the show, so if you don't like, please don't read.

Forty-three years trapped in the Apocalypse taught Five many things.

Oddly, patience wasn’t one of them.

If anything, it worsened his impatient nature. Four decades with no control over his own life made the feeling that much more precious to him. Nowadays, as soon as he had the ability to do something, he wanted it done. If he wished it, and could have it, then he would.

The trouble was, sometimes there were other variables at play. That was difficult for him to remember. Difficult, but important. If he only did what he wanted when he wanted, well…

He would have confessed to Vanya years ago.

How he longed to do it. To liberate his heart of its shackles and tell her that her smile was the sun to which he’d anchored his gravity. That she was not extra ordinary, nor even extraordinary, but divine. That he’d been adrift all his life in tumultuous seas and she was both the harbor and the storm. He’d never wanted anything more than this, and he was not in the habit of denying himself these days.

Only knowledge of the consequences should he confess stayed his hand. When he professed his love to Dolores, it had been an easy thing. She’d let it be known in all her words and actions that she loved him also. With Vanya, he had no such assurance.

At times he felt from her a flicker, an inclination, but always so brief he could think nothing but that he imagined it. Wishful thinking. It was far more likely she saw him only as a friend, a brother—perhaps even, most hatefully, a child. A declaration of his feelings would at best change nothing, and at worst might destroy the intimacy they’d built between them, ripped asunder by her disgust.

That’s why he had a plan.

He would wait.

In lieu of patience he would practice self-restraint, waiting until the day he grew to full maturity before bringing his suit to her. (It was possible he’d read too many romance novels in the Apocalypse.) He would woo and seduce her, building a love on the foundations of their friendship, and in time she would come to see him as he saw her. How could she not? They were perfect for one another. A matched set.

Just a few years, and he could have everything he wanted.

That was the plan, anyways.

*

_The best laid schemes of mice and men…_

It began with an incident that should have been of no importance. An innocent, innocuous lunch date, some two years after the averted Apocalypse.

He and Vanya were eating together, as they often did, swapping stories of their week. Usually she was the one with more to tell: a meeting with her book editor, drama at orchestra rehearsal, or some new mastery she’d gained over her powers.

_She was a force of nature and he was in awe of her._

But that day he was the one regaling her with details of his recent team-up with Diego, where they’d foiled a pathetically shoddy museum heist, and as he described the stupidity of the wannabe criminals, Vanya laughed so hard she had to grip the table to keep herself from tipping over.

Five forgot what he was talking about. An ocean roared in his ears and all he could do was stare at her. He imagined doing it, just doing it, leaning over and kissing her right then and there, pressing his lips to hers, chasing her laughter—

“Oh my god, Five!”

Laughing no longer, Vanya sounded shocked, horrified. Oh fuck, had he actually…?

No. His vision swam back into focus to find Vanya staring at him from several feet away. He hadn’t moved.

Not yet fully returned to his senses— _the taste of her lips, licking inside her mouth, muffling her moans with his own_ —he held his body rigid and intoned a vague, “Hm?”

“You… Your fork is sticking out of your thigh.”

He looked down. _A nice way to phrase, ‘You stabbed yourself, idiot.’_ But then, Vanya was always nice. Blood soaked through his trouser where he’d jabbed the four tines into his leg. That would explain the sharp stinging sensation, too.

“So it is,” he agreed.

“Come on, we gotta get you to Mom.”

Sweet, sweet Vanya. She wouldn’t ask the obvious question, wouldn’t pry. She just wanted to help.

Little did she know how far beyond help he was. Five disappeared in a flash of blue, a worried echo of his name following him through the jump.

After that, all the threads of his plan came undone one after another.

*

Five is unraveling. That’s how it seems to Vanya.

If she’s being honest, signs started cropping up months ago. Little moments. Blips. Where he would get a strange look in his eyes, or teleport away without warning, or shut himself in his room for days on end.

It worries her, but she’s grown to accept it. Five is eccentric. Always has been. Accepting his idiosyncrasies is just a part of loving him. He doesn’t need her mother-henning over him, reminding him to drink water and not skip meals and take a shower once in a while. He’s an adult—an older adult than herself, in fact. And if he chooses to work through dinner sometimes, that’s his prerogative.

Though, she wishes he would tell her _what_ he’s working on. His day to day remains a mystery to her. She knows that he sometimes goes out on missions, usually with Luther or Diego. Beyond that… he studies. He reads books and scribbles equations and paces the floor and crumples up paper after paper after paper. Is he still working out the kinks of time travel? Something else? All he’ll tell her is that he’s working on a “special project.”

So, even though it aches a little like loneliness, she leaves him to his devices.

Then he stabs himself with a fork.

She doesn’t know what happened, and he refuses to tell her, acting cagey whenever she brings it up. Soon she stops trying. But she can’t forget the hazy gleam of his eyes or the high color of his cheeks when he’d broken off in the middle of telling her a story and driven the utensil into his leg. She fears he’s getting sick—but not from a cold, or flu, or any mundane illness.

From time.

Their father had always said time travel could have disastrous effects on the mind, hadn’t he? Is Five experimenting with time travel again and it’s hurting him? Or is this a delayed reaction to the travel he’s already done?

Has his mind been broken ever since he returned to 2019 and they’ve all simply failed to notice? She wouldn’t put it past Five to convincingly fake his own sanity so as not to worry them.

 _He told us all about his mannequin girlfriend_ , her thirteen-year-old self whispers from the mirror. _He didn’t hide his insanity. It’s just that none of you cared to see it._

Vanya considers talking to her other siblings, telling them what she’s seen.

She doesn’t. It feels like a betrayal. No matter how hard she tries to convince herself that helping Five _is_ the loyal thing to do, somehow she can’t… expose him like that. Can’t break the implicit trust between them.

_-Why me?-_

_-Because you’ll listen.-_

So she waits and she watches and she listens.

Sure enough, in the weeks following his self-inflicted injury, his strange mannerisms increase tenfold. She’s positive of it.

Only, no one else seems to notice or care. Or, well, Klaus doesn’t, anyways. Luther and Allison are in L.A., visiting Claire on one of their frequent trips west, leaving only Vanya, Five, Klaus, (Ben) and Diego in the house. Plus Pogo and Mom, but Vanya does _not_ feel comfortable talking to either of those two about personal matters. Diego’s also an uncomfy fit, so it is to Klaus she brings her concerns.

_“Oh, he’s fine,” Klaus says with a careless wave of his hand. “You know our Five. He’s a trooper. Trust me, nothing to worry about there.”_

Klaus is very empathetic and, Vanya suspects, a little clairvoyant, so she chooses to accept his assessment despite the twisting in her gut that insists something is wrong. Time and again she tells herself: _You’re just paranoid because you lost him for sixteen years, and you’re scared of losing him again. Everything is fine._

*

Luther and Allison are still in L.A., and Klaus and Diego have gone out for a night on the town. They’d invited her to join, but she observed the looks passing between them and elected to stay home.

Besides, she likes having the house to herself. It’s her favorite time to practice.

Technically she isn’t alone; Five is here somewhere, presumably in his room. But for some reason, being with Five feels the same as being alone, in the way that it provides her a sense of total security and ease. He is like an extension of herself. It’s been that way since they were kids.

So she has no reservations about taking over the living room, eager to try out the new power she’s been working on in a grander space than her bedroom. It requires twenty minutes of tromping up and down the stairs to set everything up, but she likes the exercise.

Once she’s ready, she pulls out her violin and, smiling, sets bow to strings.

She chooses a calm classical piece. Better suited to her purposes than a song of frenetic energy or excitement. As always, the music fills her whole body, tingling along her nerves and warming her soul, its beauty touching her in a way nothing else can. It feels like wholeness.

It feels like love.

Breathing, she reaches inside herself and then extends outward, caressing, taking gentle hold of the sound waves produced by her playing. She no longer treats her power as something to be forced, manhandled. _You don’t control it. You manipulate it, coax it into doing your bidding_. Wisdom that hadn’t been meant for her, but she’d taken it anyways. Sometimes she imagines the wonders her siblings might have accomplished if Five had been their mentor instead of Reginald Hargreeves.

Sometimes she imagines Ben still alive, living in peaceful symbiosis with the creature in his chest, rather than dying in a bloody end to his lifelong, fruitless battle for dominance.

She can’t think on that now. Sound vibrates through her, relaxing every muscle. Her eyes, closed in the ecstasy of true contentment, open now, and she quickly spots all of her targets.

Half a dozen potted plants, carried down from the rooftop greenhouse.

Easier than thought, six lines of pure blue energy stretch from her body to each of the plants. Her bow continues its gentle serenade. Music flows from her like the tide, she the moon, its motion directed by her hand, and as she plays, the plants grow.

Slowly at first, then more and more. Green stalks shoot upward, vines curl around pillars to the second story, flowers bloom and tumble across the floor. A sweet aroma fills the air. Her violin sings. She sways back and forth. A garden unfurls around her, called into being by her bow, her power, used now to give life rather than take it.

A discordant sound breaks her concentration.

Taking care not to reel her power in too rapidly, she brings the song to a careful close. The air settles around her. She looks up.

Vanya gasps inaudibly, stricken. Five stands before her, and he looks wrecked. Wide, glassy eyes darting about the room. Skin flushed above his black turtleneck. A fever, she’s certain of it.

 _Did I do that?_ she panics. She’d thought she drew energy only from her music, but had she somehow, unknowingly, sucked energy from him to feed the plants?

Just as she’d fed on his life force once before?

_Luther, Five, Klaus, Diego, hovering in the air before her, held aloft by beams of energy, her energy, draining their life, turning them gaunt, shadowed, dying._

Before she can jump to the worst conclusion, Vanya forces herself to be rational. To remember that Five has been unwell for weeks, and this, in all likelihood, has nothing to do with her. In fact, he may be here looking for her help.

“Five,” she says. “Are you—”

He jolts, eyes fixing on her suddenly as though he’s been asleep and her voice is the spell that woke him. His hands ball into fists. Vanya sees a wisp of blue energy and lunges forward without thinking.

Her fingers catch his sleeve.

The world warps around her in a way she’s experienced only once before. For a moment she can’t breathe as pressure constricts her lungs, but thankfully it’s over soon, their trip through spacetime blissfully short.

His jump takes them straight to his bedroom. She releases his denim jacket and staggers away to regain her equilibrium. Before she is fully recovered, she hears,

“Don’t _ever_ do that again!”

When she turns, Five is quaking with anger, his eyes wild.

“Do you have any idea how dangerous that was?” he yells. “I could have _killed_ you. If I hadn’t— If I hadn’t reconfigured the equations in time…” He begins to pace. His hands tear at his hair. “If I hadn’t compensated…”

Strangely, Vanya finds his panic calming. This is how they operate—as scales, one up when the other is down, so as to always find balance in each other.

“But you did,” she says. “And neither of us got hurt. Okay? We’re both here.”

He whirls on her again, then freezes. His eyes stare deep into hers, manic, burning, afraid. With nothing but her expression, she asks if he’s all right, asks what’s going on in his mind.

“Leave,” he says hoarsely.

That she wasn’t expecting.

“Not until you tell me what’s wrong.”

“Damn it, Vanya, _leave_! Get out!”

“No! _Talk_ to me, Five.”

He storms towards her and she backs away on instinct, cowed by the look in his eyes, by his power, forgetting her own. A lifetime of being prey rears up in the face of the terrifying predator before her.

Her back slams against the door. She winces, the hair tie of her loose bun a vague discomfort pressed against her skull, but he is still coming, and she doesn’t—

Electricity short-circuits her brain as his lips meet hers.

Not meet. Attack. Feast upon.

She has lost all sense of reality, but she thinks there is a hand cradling the back of her neck, and she thinks Five is kissing her—

That doesn’t make sense. Five _kissing_ her? She must be confused.

—and she thinks her eyes flutter closed. For a second she exists in nothingness, no time, no space, only the sensation of being kissed, and it is a good kiss, and she hasn’t been kissed in so long, and she wants this.

Then reality hits.

And she remembers her power.

Or, more accurately, her power remembers her. Without thought or intention, a vortex whips into being around her and Five is picked up and flung across the room like a ragdoll. He flies over his bed and slams into the window, its glass pane cracking as he collapses in a heap. Blood glistens where his head struck.

Vanya’s breath catches and she shoves her power back inside where it belongs, not bothering with delicacy this time.

“Five!”

She rushes to help him up, but he is already rising unsteadily from the floor. A foot away, she stops, hand outstretched but hesitant in her impotence. Five puts a hand to the back of his head, then brings it in front of his face. It is slick with red.

“Damn,” he says.

He stumbles, and Vanya screams his name as she dives to break his fall.


	2. Chapter 2

Vanya was sitting in a chair outside the infirmary, hands wringing in her lap, when she heard the approach of footsteps and high-pitched laughter. Klaus and Diego rounded the corner at the end of the hallway, their heads bent close together, practically arm in arm.

Klaus lit up when he saw her. “ _There_ you are."

Rubbing sweaty palms against her thighs, Vanya stood up as Klaus detached himself from Diego’s side and hurried over.

“Pogo said we’d find you here. Everything okay?”

“He said you were fine, but he was being kinda weird about it,” said Diego, joining them. “You responsible for the rainforest downstairs?”

“Wha-? Oh.” In the chaos of… everything… Vanya had managed to forget. “Yeah, that was me. Sorry.”

“No need to be sorry, sis.” Diego clapped her on the shoulder. Vanya was unsurprised to smell alcohol on his breath when he smiled too close to her face. She and her brother got on well these days, but overt friendliness was still generally restricted to occasions of inebriation. “It’s pretty cool.”

“Cool? It’s _gorgeous._ ” Klaus gave a deep sigh, then brightened and grabbed Vanya’s hands. “Will you do up the plants in my room like that?”

“Uh, sure.”

Vanya tried to act casual, to smile back at him, but she couldn’t. An ache throbbed from the center of her chest whenever she tried to inhale. What did rainforests and home décor matter when Five was in surgery just a room away, put there by her own hand?

“What are you doing up here, anyways?” Klaus asked, easily flitting from one subject to the next. “Did you hurt yourself using all that mojo?”

“No, I…” Her breath stuttered, the ache squeezing out every bit of air. She forced herself to breathe deeply. “It’s Five.”

“What’s Five?”

“He’s… in the operating room with Mom right now.”

Between one blink and the next, her brothers transitioned from play to professional. Klaus went straight to the door, pressing a hand against it as though this would let him see through. Diego’s hand squeezed her shoulder, probably meant to comfort her, but his grip was too tight and she suspected he was doing it more to comfort himself.

“Shit,” was the first thing he said.

“What happened?” Klaus asked. “Is he going to be okay?”

“He’s getting some stitches, but yeah, Mom said he should be fine.”

Diego’s grip loosened. “That little shit went out on a mission by himself, didn’t he? Damn it, how many times have I told him—”

“It was me.”

They both turned to her.

“I was training, and he came in and…” Vanya’s words fell away, the truth choking her.

Her brothers gave her looks of sympathy, of understanding, clearly believing this to be the full story. She couldn’t bring herself to correct their assumption, that it had been some accidental mishap, wrong place wrong time, as opposed to what really happened.

 _Not giving all the details isn’t the same as lying_ , she told herself as Klaus wrapped her in a side hug.

Acid gnawed at her stomach.

She started to tremble.

“I hate this,” she said, barely above a mumble. She was upset to feel tears building in her eyes. She’d assaulted one of her siblings, _again_ , and her body thought _she_ had the right to cry? “I hate these powers.” _I hate me._ “Maybe Dad was right; you should put me back on the pills—”

“Hey.” Diego leaned down, pointing a finger into her face. The smell of alcohol wafted over her. “That’s bullshit, all right? It was an accident. We aren’t gonna do to each other any of the crap that Dad did.”

“Yeah, Dad was a prick who had no idea what was best for any of us,” said Klaus. “Besides, I’m sure Five isn’t angry at you. He’ll understand.”

Unconvinced, Vanya eyed them. “As a kid I was a liability, and that was bad enough. I don’t want to be a threat.” _Not to the only people who’ve ever loved me._

“We’re _not doing_ it,” Diego repeated. “I think we’ve all been heaped with enough abuse to last a lifetime.”

Klaus shifted uncomfortably beside him, wrapping arms around his torso and staring at the wall.

“Dad’s shitty methods can stay buried in the ground with him where they belong.”

“Um, you know, Dad was cremated—”

“Shut up, Klaus.”

Vanya chuckled quietly. Uncertainty and self-loathing still ran through her body like an electric current, but their assurances, and banter, had given her a little peace of mind. She started to respond.

The infirmary door swung open and all three Hargreeves stood at attention, fallen silent. Grace, wearing hospital scrubs, stepped out and closed the door behind her.

“Oh! Hello, boys,” she said, subdued but still cheerful. “I’m glad you came to join your sister. Waiting is always hardest when you’re alone.”

“How’s he doing?” asked Klaus, peering over her shoulder at the closed door.

“He’s resting now. I gave him six stitches in the back of the head. He’ll need to be careful in the bath for a few days, but he’ll make a full recovery.”

“No brain damage or anything like that?” Vanya asked.

“Nothing long-term. He has a mild concussion, but there is no internal bleeding or swelling of the brain. He may experience some short-term side effects such as headaches, confusion, nausea, and fatigue, but these should, with the proper care, go away in a matter of days or weeks. Five is a very hardy young man.” Grace’s smile bespoke a mother’s pride.

“He’s not a young man,” Vanya corrected absentmindedly, her brain repeating Grace’s prognosis ad infinitum. _Headaches, confusion, nausea, fatigue, headaches, confusion, nausea…_

And this was the best possible outcome. She could have done far more damage.

She could have killed him just like she’d killed those men in the parking lot.

“Oh. You’re right, dear, of course.”

“Thanks for taking care of him, Mom,” said Diego. Grace brightened, looking at him with a tenderness that belied her robotic nature. “Can we see him?”

Her smile fell away. “He asked to be left alone for the time being,” she said, her tone full of sympathy. “He’s not feeling up to company.”

A thunderclap boomed in Vanya’s chest.

“ _My_ company, you mean,” she said. Guilty eyes—another astonishing depth of humanity for a robot; whatever else he was, there could be no denying Reginald Hargreeves was a genius—shifted towards her, confirming her suspicions. “Since I was the only one he knew was here. Five doesn’t want to see _me_.”

Klaus turned away from the door, heartbreak in his gaze, as if he knew exactly how deeply this wounded her.

“Van,” he said, her name almost more of a sigh than a word. “I’m sure he just—”

“It’s fine.” She backed down the corridor, her heart racing, breath quickening. An anxiety attack was creeping up on her, and she’d never wished so fervently that she had Five’s power, that she could teleport away before anyone saw just how weak and vulnerable she was. “I’m the one who did this to him. Of course he doesn’t want to see me.”

Compassionate to the point of naivety, Klaus opened his mouth no doubt to argue with her. But there was a stillness in Diego’s expression that Vanya saw and understood. He knew better. Like she did. There was no use denying the truth when it was right in front of them. Five was mad at her, as well he should be. She’d expected no less, and deserved much, much more.

Before Klaus had time to speak, Vanya bolted from the hospital wing and ran for her bedroom, where she locked herself inside to have an anxiety attack and cry in solitude.

*

Sleeping was a lost cause. Five’s head ached something fierce and his mind was spinning. The best he could do was close his eyes and ‘rest.’ Though even this was not very restful, as he could see only one thing behind his closed eyelids, and it did little to calm him.

Wincing, he rotated his neck from left to right. This did nothing to dispel the blurred image of Vanya—strong, steady, untouched by the storm—as he hurtled backwards through the air.

Tormented by his own mind, Five's only solace was in being alone. He gave a happy sigh. At least he didn’t have to deal with his siblings on top of everything else, worrying over him, grating on him with their care and concern. He didn’t have the energy for it, or the goodwill. If he could count on nothing else, he could at least count on Grace not to let anyone inside against his wishes.

Blue light shimmered beyond the darkness.

Groaning, cursing the universe, God, and everything in between, he opened his eyes.

“Tell Klaus this is cheating.”

Ben crossed his arms, glowing and transparent where he stood next to Five’s hospital bed. “Tell him yourself, I’m not the postal service.”

“You know, dying really made you more of an asshole.”

This was simple observation, not judgment. To Five’s thinking, it was good for everyone to have a little asshole in them.

“Being dead set me free from all the anxiety that inhibited me while I was alive. I started asking myself, ‘What would Five do?’ And now here I am.”

Five narrowed his eyes. “Remind me why I liked you when we were kids?”

“Because Vanya and I were the only ones who put up with your technobabble bullshit?”

“Oh, that’s right.”

They shared a smirk. Nostalgic, Five stared into slideshow pictures of the past, reflecting on the days of his youth. Back before he left. Before Ben died. Before anyone even knew Vanya had powers. The weight of his many years since settled on his brow.

“Those were simpler times,” he said, sadness and affection mixing in his voice.

Ben let out a bark of laughter. “My god, you are such an old man.”

“So I’ve been trying to tell you all.”

Grinning, Five gave an amused huff, then winced as a zing of pain immediately shot through his skull and into his pounding forehead. His eyes squeezed shut.

“You should talk to her.”

A different kind of pain stung like an injection straight to the heart, its poison quickly spreading through his veins.

“Can’t.”

“Can’t or won’t?”

He opened his eyes and looked up at Ben in disgust. “What are you, my therapist now?”

“You say that like it isn’t, in fact, a very good idea for you to get one.”

“Sure, why not.” Five sneered. “I’ll just stroll into some rich quack’s office and tell them all about living for forty-three years in the Apocalypse that my family created, then being recruited by an agency of time-traveling assassins who turned me into the best killer in the universe, before finally returning to my family, discovering my sister was a bomb set on a timer by our father when she was just a child, and being forced to try and kill her to stop the world-ending detonation. And now, I get sad sometimes. Tell me, doc, what’s the diagnosis? Do I have paradox psychosis or is it good old-fashioned mommy issues?”

A cold stare over crossed arms. “If you’re done?”

“I don’t know, was my point taken?”

“Five, I’ve been at Klaus’s side for the past fifteen years. If you think a speech like that is all it takes to put me off the subject, you’re as self-deluded as he is. I’m not interested in your pity party.” True to his word, Ben’s expression was blank as a rock wall. “Why won’t you talk to Vanya?”

Five was so taken aback by Ben not only standing his ground but pushing back, no hesitation, no timidity, no fear, that he felt his bitter snark knocked clean out of him. His heart found itself trapped in an uncertain place between pride and regret.

“You really have changed, Ben,” he said.

Ben’s gaze remained unflinching, but grew softer somehow. “It’s a cold world out there. I had to adapt or else lose myself completely. Didn’t you?”

 _Ash and dust and darkness and alone alone alone. Cold, bleak, brown, gray. His own hubris, the culprit. His hunger. His conceit. Always hungry now. Settle for scraps. Walk. Find. Build. Bricks and walls and words and Dolores. Companionship, love, humility, fear, alone, not alone, alone, not alone_ …

Heart hammering against his ribs, Five swallowed. He pulled in a breath. Another. Another. He hadn’t lost himself then, he wouldn’t lose himself now. He’d adapted. Like Ben. He was still Five. He was still whole.

 _Not whole—like Ben_.

Held together by scotch tape and silly string. _Not alone_. By brown eyes and a white violin and her touch, her glance, her her her. Every day he felt himself teetering on the edge, and…

“If I see how much she despises me,” he said, staring at the ceiling, “I’m afraid my mind will break.”

_And my heart._

“Why would you think she despises you?” Five wasn’t looking, but he could hear the surprise in his brother’s voice. “She didn’t hurt you on purpose. I heard them, it was an acc—”

“It was instinct. I did something that…” He sucked air in through clenched teeth. Shame and bitterness swirled together in his stomach to make a vile concoction, and nausea rose up in him. The back of his head radiated pain. “…she obviously didn’t like. She must be disgusted by me now. I messed everything up.”

“Five, I think you should talk to her.”

A film of sweat covered him like another layer of skin. This wasn’t his body; he had slithered into someone else’s. He was plastic, a child’s barbie, head in the toilet getting a swirlie. Shaking, he threw an arm over his eyes, blocking out the light, both white and blue.

“I really don’t think—”

“Ben, just… stop talking. I need you to leave. Please. Please leave.”

Silence.

After an indeterminate stretch of time, once Five felt like a human being again, if a slightly sweaty, sickly one, he lifted a weak arm and opened his eyes.

He was alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry there wasn't any Five/Vanya interaction in this one! Hope y'all enjoyed the siblings' guest appearances, though.
> 
> To be continued...


	3. Chapter 3

For the next week Five kept to himself. Locked away in his bedroom, never emerging, not even when Grace delivered his meals. As the days passed, all his siblings except Vanya took turns attempting to play nursemaid in their mom’s place. Knocking at his door, calling his name, asking to be let in. Each time, he waited for them to leave before he cracked open the door and snatched up the food.

He couldn’t see them. Not in his current state. If he acknowledged even one of his siblings, then so too would his mind be forced to acknowledge Vanya, and this new life where she was no longer the pillar for him to lean on. Where he was alone without actually being alone, and all the lonelier for it.

He didn’t come out even to bathe. He grew dirty, sweaty, pungent. This wasn’t new territory for him, however, and the smell of his unwashed body triggered a feeling of familiarity that put him at ease.

As best he could in his little attic room, Five recreated life in the Apocalypse. If he was in the Apocalypse then it was okay that he was alone. It was okay that he was lost. Alone was a reality here, not an infection.

Only, he didn’t truly want to be alone. He never had. He simply wanted to be not alone on his own terms.

He wanted Dolores back.

It had been foolish of him, saying goodbye to her in the first place. Even though their separation had been mutual, Five felt certain that when she saw him again, saw how poorly he was doing, she too would realize that they were better together. In fact, she probably already missed him and was just waiting for him to reach the same conclusion.

Why had he given up such a beautiful, fulfilling relationship? One that had lasted longer than any of his siblings had even been alive. It was lunacy.

It was time to rectify that mistake.

Wanting to look—and smell—his best for Dolores, Five finally took a bath. Luckily, living on the top floor, he used a different bathroom than the rest of his siblings, so there was no difficulty in sneaking down the hall and back before anyone spotted him.

Once he was clean, he put on a nice pair of slacks, a V-neck shirt, and a slim-fitting blazer. A silver ring got slipped onto his left thumb and two necklaces that hung down to the middle of his chest.

He stood tall and examined himself in the mirror, straightening his cuffs. Satisfied, he grabbed his old duffle bag, pushed up the window, and climbed out onto the fire escape.

Grace had instructed him not to teleport for at least a fortnight, while he healed. Five was many things, stubborn included, but he wasn’t stupid. He had no desire to worsen the headaches and dizziness that still afflicted him at times.

So he walked to the department store. It was good exercise anyways.

Unfortunately, the long walk gave him time to think, and it occurred to him… What if Dolores wasn’t there? What if she’d moved on or _been_ moved? What if he couldn’t find her and then he was _really_ alone alone alone alone?

By the time he arrived, he’d worked himself into a near panic. He raced down aisles, dodging clothes and shoppers, headed straight for the spot where he’d last seen Dolores two years ago.

His heart stopped. He came to a screeching halt.

A smile spread across his cheeks, relieved, thankful. Heart beating normally again, he walked the final few steps to his once-wife.

“Hi, Dolores.”

He wanted to reach out and touch her, but he held back. There was no knowing how things might have changed for her in the past two years. He couldn’t presume.

“I like the new outfit. Red looks good on you.”

It did. Red was one of her best colors.

“So I bet you’re surprised to see me again, huh?” he teased.

She didn’t answer.

Five cleared his throat. “Well, anyways… I’ve been thinking. Maybe… maybe we were too hasty when we went our separate ways. I miss you. I thought, if you wanted, we could give this thing another go. Start fresh. We’ve got a whole lifetime ahead of us, _again_ …” He chuckled. “…and I don’t see why we shouldn’t spend this one together too.”

Still she didn’t answer, and he began to worry that leaving her two years ago had done more damage than he’d feared. Had he hurt her? Was he capable of nothing but hurting those he cared about?

“Dolores, talk to me,” he said. “If something’s wrong, tell me and I’ll fix it. I’ll do anything you want.”

Silence.

“Don’t give me the cold shoulder, please. Do you want me to get down on my knees and grovel? Beg? I’ll do it if you want me to, just say the word.”

Nothing.

Her eyes didn’t meet his. There was no malice in them, no will to punish, there was just… nothing.

“Dolores?”

There was nothing. Her lips were bent in a forever-sly grin, but her light blue eyes were painted, empty.

_No. No no no no no_

Stumbling backwards, Five crashed into a metal rack and collapsed to the floor. Eyes stretched open, he stared up at a ceiling that shifted and blurred like Van Gogh’s _Starry Night_. A pile of clothes fell on top of him.

_No no no nonnono no nono_

“Uh… are you okay? Do you need us to call for help?”

Girl. Teenage girl. Not Dolores. Couldn’t breathe.

“Hey, remember that movie where the girl passed out in Walmart because she had leukemia? Maybe he’s sick.”

“Jesus, don’t say shit like that. Just… go flag down an employee, I’m gonna try and help him up.”

Movement. An arm reaching down, flesh, blood, not thin enough, not pale enough, not shiny enough.

Five shot out from under the clothes and lurched to his feet, panting. His head felt like a slab of meat under the butcher’s tenderizer. The young girl watched him with surprise.

Alone alone alone

 _Was_ he alone or did he want to _be_ alone?

Yes.

 _Maybe he’s sick_.

The throbbing in his skull intensified as he summoned his power. A staticky blue glow enveloped him, and he saw the girl’s eyes grow wider.

His bedroom. That would be safe.

He jumped.

The landing was shaky and he stumbled, but quickly righted himself. He was ready to burrow under his blankets until either his splitting headache went away or the new millennium rolled around, whichever came first. He turned towards the bed.

Ice pinned his feet to the floor.

Not ice, not literal ice, _could she do that?_ , but he was frozen in place nonetheless and Vanya was the culprit.

She stared back, looking equally surprised to see him. After a few seconds he took in details beyond Vanya’s eyes, now noticing the pen in her hands, the desk she was sitting at, the bed that was not his own, and—Of course. Vanya’s room. He’d messed up the equations and landed in Vanya’s room.

His gaze snapped to the side before he could see her surprise morph into a different emotion. Blue lightning gathered about his fists.

“Wait, don’t!”

Fingers snagged his jacket and— _shit! fuck! shit!—_ he wasn’t well enough, he’d lost control, if he jumped with her now he might kill her.

He reined in his power at the last second. Spatial energy yanked at his innards then reluctantly spat him back out, as though he pulled against the gravity of a black hole. Guts scrambled, he fell to his knees, hitting the hardwood floor. He retched. Apparently he’d forgotten to eat that morning, because nothing came up; only the scratchy caverns of his chest and his parched throat paid the price for his stomach’s reflex.

“Oh god, I- I’m sorry! Hold on.”

Hurried footsteps rattled the floorboards, but Five didn’t pay them much mind. Quivering, sweating. When his stomach settled, he leaned backwards and propped himself against the side of the bed. He tilted his head up and breathed, waiting for the sickness to pass.

By the time Vanya returned with a glass of water, most of his symptoms had subsided. He accepted the water anyways and sipped it as he wiped sweat from his forehead. His—stupid, pubescent—body was okay again, but he was left feeling exhausted and hollowed out. Vanya sat next to him against the bedframe.

“Five, I am _so sorry_.”

He flinched. God, the sound of her voice was so beloved that it hurt. Scraping him more raw than his dry heaves.

“I didn’t mean to make you sick, I just… Mom said you’re not supposed to be teleporting in your condition. I didn’t want you to get hurt.”

Five took a gulp of water. “Well, they say it’s the thought that counts.”

A heavy silence.

Perhaps his sarcasm had been too harsh. Perhaps he was letting his pain get the best of him, making him lash out at Vanya undeservedly—it wasn’t her fault that he loved her, after all, or that she was revolted by this sentiment.

Perhaps he didn’t give a damn. He wasn’t as kind as the rest of his siblings, or as humble. He couldn’t meekly accept a world in which the woman he loved didn’t love him back. Couldn’t accept that as normal, fair, okay.

Maybe under different circumstances he could. He had no way of knowing. All he did know was that Vanya didn’t love him, and there was no doubt in his mind that it was because, for all her pretty words and reassurances, she still saw him as a child.

So he was mad. He was mad at her, and mad at himself, and every second he thought about it filled him with a nauseating blend of rage, pity, desire, and self-loathing.

That’s why it was better not to think on it at all.

The last logical center of his brain flickered on, screamed that, _You’re the one in the wrong, asshole. For all of it. Pack it up and go home. If you keep hurting her, you’ll never forgive yourself_.

*

Vanya was silent as Five rose to his feet after a long, quiet pause. She didn’t move to follow him.

His disdain had cut into her like a knife. Sliced through her ribs. Gouged out her heart. He’d never treated her that way before, never in their lives, not before…

She bit her tongue. There would be no crying; she didn’t deserve it. What she _did_ deserve was exactly what he was giving her. But that didn’t mean—

“You shouldn’t punish the others for what I did.”

Five froze on his way to the door, his back to her. Taking this as a good sign—he was listening, at least—Vanya climbed to her feet, eyes trained on the back of his head.

She wished he would turn around. In the past week she’d missed the sight of him more than she’d thought possible.

“It’s fine if you don’t want to see me anymore,” she said. _It’s not fine. It’s anything_ but _fine._ “I deserve that. But they don’t. Please stop hiding away in your room. We’re all… They’re all worried about you. Don’t shut them out just because I messed up.”

Five turned, and there was something in his eyes, an uncertainty, some unanswered question, but she didn’t have time to consider it before her tongue tripped onward.

“And I- I want you to know, I am so, so sorry.” Finally she released the words she’d held caged inside all week. “I know it isn’t enough and I understand if you can’t forgive me, but… I swear, I didn’t mean to do it. I’m really sorry, Five.”

His eyes narrowed. There was nothing angry in the expression, only a mature, thoughtful appraisal that made him look… well, his age.

“What are you apologizing for?” he asked. “Stopping my jump just now?”

“What? No, I… I mean, I’m sorry for that too, but no, I was apologizing for…” She fought every instinct that wanted to beat around the bush. If nothing else, she owed him directness. Accountability. “…what I did to you last week. Hurting you.”

His clever eyes considered her with a somber attention that made her want to squirm. What was he looking for so intently? Did he not think she meant what she said? Why would he doubt it? Even if he was mad at her, he wasn’t stupid. He knew her too well.

“Why would you apologize for that?”

Head spinning, Vanya began to wonder if _she_ was the one with a concussion. Or maybe this Five had jumped here from an alternate timeline by mistake, and so didn’t know what she was talking about. If he did, he wouldn’t ask such a thing.

“I threw you against a window and knocked you out, of course I’m going to apologize. I could have killed you. It was an accident, but that’s no excuse.”

“Last I checked, self-defense was not only an acceptable but actually recommended response to assault.”

Slipped into another dimension. That’s what she’d done. Definitely. Because there was _no way_ Five was justifying her actions on the basis of self-defense.

She gaped at him, but his composure didn’t waver.

“You didn’t _assault_ me. That’s what _I_ did.”

“Mm, I’m fairly certain unwanted sexual contact constitutes assault.”

Her cheeks warmed. The blunt reminder of what had transpired between them in the moments before her outburst caused suppressed images to flash to the forefront of her mind.

“You warned me to leave and I didn’t,” she said. “That’s on me. What happened wasn’t your fault, you were sick and—”

“Sick?” he cut in. Feeling ignited behind his eyes, burning away the veil of indifference. “What do you mean ‘sick’?”

Even now, his pride forced him to deny the facts.

“Look, I’m not pretending to understand how your powers work. But don’t you think maybe… I mean, Dad always said it might affect you, and—”

“What do you _mean_ by _sick_?”

Frustrated, she shifted her weight between legs. “Come on, Five, it was obvious. You’d been acting paranoid and erratic for weeks, and on the day I hurt you, I could _see_ how unwell you were. Feverish and ancy and…”

Incredulity overtook Five’s rage, his stare no less penetrating for it. Was he so self-deceiving that he hadn’t noticed his own condition? Or had he simply not thought Vanya would? She tried to stifle her irritation at the thought.

“I don’t know what happened,” she said, firm. “Whether you mistook me for Dolores”—he winced—“in a hallucinatory state. Or if some weird time sickness made you horny”—he winced a second time—"and I was just there. But I’m not going to blame you for something that wasn’t your fault.”

Seconds passed as Five’s lips curved upward, until incredulity became amazement. His eyes were alight, but there was something hard, not quite kind, in his amused expression.

“That’s why you think I kissed you?”

Now it was her turn to wince. Oblique references were one thing, the ‘k’-word was quite another.

“Because I was too sick to know better?”

“There’s nothing to be ashamed of. Everyone gets sick, and we all do stupid things that we regret later.”

“I love you.”

Vanya stopped. She would have laughed at such a strong reaction to her assurances but for the deathly serious look in his eyes. It pinged a note of unease.

Scolding herself, she put on a casual smile. Easy affection wasn’t something their family excelled at, so it was unusual for them to speak this way, but she wasn’t going to discourage it. Not if it might help him to open up.

“I love you too,” she said. “So can you tell me what—”

“No, you misunderstand me,” said Five.

All his wildness of the last few minutes was gone, self-assurance in its place. Chin high, standing at least two inches taller than her, he looked into her eyes with a focus and intensity that made her breath hitch.

“I didn’t kiss you because I was confused or ill. I kissed you because I love you. Like I’ve always loved you. Only this time I wasn’t able to keep it to myself any longer.”

Each beat of her heart grew louder and deeper, crashing like a gong in her chest. He looked so sincere; she couldn’t disbelieve him. _Fuck. Fuck, what…?_ Five loved her? The room tilted at an angle and the floor rocked beneath her. Her mind cracked open, shifted, crumbled into the ocean at her feet.

For a moment she wondered: was this another symptom of some unknowable time disease?

But no. She couldn’t, and wouldn’t, do him the discredit. The truth of it was there in his eyes.

And more than that, she _felt_ it. Had always felt it, to a degree. It just wasn’t something she’d let herself think about, not since they were children.

Not since he left her behind.

After his return, well… the idea had never occurred to her. How could it? How could she see him that way, when…

He watched her now, and though she imagined he was trying to put on a veneer of patience, he couldn’t entirely hide his expectant, needy, covetous gaze. Tension resonated along the twisted pathways of her intestines.

“Five, you… We can’t.”

“Why not?”

“You know why.”

“’Fraid I don’t. Enlighten me.”

A challenge, bitter, and lurking not far behind it she sensed a mountainous fury. Her palms sweated.

“It just, it can’t be like that. We’re siblings.”

“So are Allison and Luther. Are you saying there’s something wrong with them?”

“That’s… different.”

“Just say it, Vanya.” His voice was calmer than she’d expected. “You don’t want to be with me, can’t even consider the _possibility_ , because I look like _this_.”

“Don’t.” Her head shook a refrain of _‘no_ ,’ guilt a parasite chewing through her organs. “Don’t do that, Five, it’s mean.”

“What, telling the truth?”

“ _Blaming_ me.”

His brow pulled together and he leaned away. Good. What did he want from her? An apology for not being attracted to teenagers? Or… teenager-looking persons? This was crazy.

“I know it isn’t fair,” she said, “what time travel did to you, but I can’t help that. What do you expect me to do? You’re… Things are different now, we can’t pretend they aren’t.”

With a humorless smirk, Five turned to the side. “So you would condemn me to a life of celibacy.”

“What? No, I—”

“Who am I supposed to be with?” He looked back at her. “Who am I _ever_ supposed to be with? I can’t date anyone my age because it would look like pedophilia. I can’t date anyone who _looks_ my age because it _would_ be pedophilia. And none of that even _matters_ because what I _can’t_ do with anyone else I don’t _want_ to do with anyone else.”

She inhaled sharply as he took a step closer.

“You’re the only one. The only one who could truly see me.”

Her heart squeezed with sympathy and something else she couldn’t name. His point was well made, but it didn’t change anything. She couldn’t just flip a switch. Even the thought of being with him…

A shudder went through her. But she was loath to pour salt in the wound. She needed to get through to him some other way, make him see sense, so that they could move on from this and return to the easy camaraderie they’d shared the past two years.

“How can you be sure of that when you’ve never explored the outside world?” she asked. “Have you ever even known anyone outside of the Academy and the Commission? I mean really _known_ them?”

His smile was all quiet, cutting intelligence. “I see what you’re trying to do, but it won’t work. I know my own mind. I’ve met scores of people across time and space. You are the _only_ one I want.”

“Well… you shouldn’t! I’m bad for you, Five. You keep getting hurt because of me, first at the Icarus, now with your head—” 

“Vanya.” He was a foot away from her, and she meant to move but found herself anchored to the floorboards. He looked impassioned, almost fevered, his blue eyes bright as flame. “I would carve my lungs out of my chest if you asked me to.”

Her knees folded, and she dropped onto the edge of the bed, breathless.

“Hurt me any way you want. It won’t make me love you less.”

Terror flooded her senses, until all she could feel was the adrenaline. She didn’t want that kind of devotion. Not from him, not from anyone. It was too much.

But at the same time, there was a part of her—perhaps the part tied to her powers, the part that craved power and control and domination—that reared up in the back of her mind, roaring like a lioness after a triumphant kill.

Her pulse pounded beneath skin that tingled with nerves. She tried to wrangle her thoughts.

“I don’t… That’s…”

He pounced on her hesitation, sitting beside her. “Give me a chance. To show you how perfect we would be together.”

“I… I just can’t, I’m sorry. I don’t think of you that way.”

There was a pause. Then, “Do you love me?”

“Of course, but not…”

“Do you love me more than anyone?”

“I- I don’t know,” she said. “You can’t ask me that.”

It was an unfair question. How could he expect her to quantify the love she felt for each of her siblings?

And how could she admit the answer was yes? 

“Open your mind,” he said. His eyes were soft now, almost pleading, and that was somehow worse. She blinked, trying to ignore the confusing pitter-patter of her heart.

Nerves. It was only nerves.

“Just… try, Vanya, please. For me. Let me show you.”

She swallowed. Said nothing, too wretched to speak.

But she held his gaze, and this was answer enough. He scooted closer on the bedspread until their thighs touched.

“Don’t look at me, not with your eyes.” He reached out and placed a hand over her face, shrouding her in darkness. Vanya breathed, let her eyelids close, told herself to trust him and try try try. After all… once upon a time…

 _Open your mind, Vanya_.

“See me as I am. Your brother. Your best friend. We grew up together, the same age. I know you better than anyone.” 

A hand cupped her jaw. The cool metal of his ring brushed her cheek, sending a tingle down her spine. Her stomach turned over and over. She willed herself to relax. The hand covering her eyes slipped away but the dark stayed, her eyes squeezed tightly shut.

Warm breath ghosted along her cheek and tickled her ear.

“I waited a lifetime for you,” he murmured. A shiver coursed through her.

His fingers trailed a path from her temple to her cheek, before finding her neck. His touch was light and reverent.

“I can make you feel good. I want to make you feel good.”

More shivers. Goosebumps.

She exhaled, feeling shaky, weak. There were too many emotions tearing through her, and most of her energy was going towards suppressing her powers.

 _Don’t panic,_ she told herself. _It’s just Five._

She wasn’t sure if that made it better or worse. In her mind’s eye he was still as she knew him. No amount of darkness could banish that image.

_Older than me, older than himself, older than all of us_

Dry lips skated down the line of her cheekbone, almost like paper against her skin. She had the bizarre thought that it was her job to wet them, to press ink into his pages and write him full of her stories.

Too late, because he did the job for her, licking his lips so close to her face that she felt the motion and the dampness, before he proceeded to press a kiss, not entirely close-mouthed, to the corner of her lips.

Vanya gasped and wrenched away, leaping to her feet. She staggered across the floor, back hunched as she tried to breathe, to settle her rioting stomach.

She wanted to cry, to throw up. But most of all she wanted to feel him again. Feel more. Starved for touch and affection, she was a man dying of hunger presented with a feast where all the food was poisoned.

The mattress creaked, and she heard Five move to stand behind her.

His hand wrapped around her arm. “Vanya, wait, we can—”

“Five, _no_.” She whirled around, yanking out of his grasp and putting some distance between them. “I did what you asked, I tried it your way.”

“For how long? A minute? You have to give me more time than that. You can’t give in so easily.”

Vanya loosened her hold on her powers. Her hair floated around her, turning white at the tips. Every small, untethered object in the room began to levitate, and she watched with no small satisfaction as shock sent Five’s eyebrows high on his forehead and he glanced all about them. On the surface his countenance seemed calm enough, but she could read Five like a book.

He was nervous.

“Have to? Can’t?” she echoed.

His jaw tightened. Others might see this and think it anger. _Vanya_ knew it was regret, and even a little fear.

“That isn’t what I meant,” he said. Then he walked towards her, stopping barely a foot away, and she was surprised enough to release the energy she’d harnessed and let the room settle again. Was he not as afraid of her as she’d thought?

Or was the fear part of his attraction?

While she tried to wrap her mind around this idea, Five went on.

“I know… I _believe_ there was a time when you felt something for me too. All I’m asking is that you give those feelings another chance. I’m still Five. You’re still Vanya. I know you can love me if you just—”

“Maybe you don’t realize,” she cut in, “but trying to _force_ me to love you isn’t helping your case.”

Five jerked back.

“I—” The word was more like an exhalation, and he choked on it. He stared at her, appalled, his gaze flicking back and forth with increased horror every second. A long moment passed. Finally,

“I’m… sorry. Vanya, I…”

With a deep, tremulous breath, he stood tall and composed himself; but nothing could disguise the way his eyes were watering. Vanya was hit with a dose of guilt that stilled her anger and churned up her insides.

“I swear to you,” he said, “I will never injure you by speaking of this again. Please forgive me. I—” He silenced himself abruptly, and Vanya’s heart raced. She wondered what he’d been about to say. She had a guess, from his tone and expression.

She wanted to hear him say it.

“I’m so sorry,” he blurted one last time.

Before she could so much as open her mouth, he was gone in a zap— _teleporting with a concussion_ —and Vanya was left to ponder just how right she’d been.

He was always getting hurt because of her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The saga shall continue in the next story! Hope you enjoyed <3

**Author's Note:**

> The title is a quote from poet Munia Khan. Full stanza:
> 
> “You can learn things from a heart so bleeding  
> When love bargains with deceitful pleading  
> Hours soar from dawn to dawn splitting your time  
> Don’t hear melody from a soundless chime”


End file.
